


Blessings

by CrumblingAsh



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Feels, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Team Fluff, Thor Is Not Stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 00:17:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3998704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrumblingAsh/pseuds/CrumblingAsh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this prompt: <i> In Asgard it is not uncommon for two men to be together and Thor has seen relationships between two men up close. After living with the Avengers he assumes that Tony and Bruce are together based on how they interact with each other. He gives them his "blessing" during a team breakfast and it turns out he isn't the only one on the team who thought they were a couple. </i></p><p>-</p><p>“…the <b>fuck</b> do you mean you’re not together?” Clint finally demands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blessings

* * *

 

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Clint witnesses the exact moment Doctor Banner loses his fight against the exhaustion from the battle, and passes out directly on Stark’s shoulder.

His nerves sing with the immediate need to intervene – while Clint’s not prone to underestimation, the doc looks even more vulnerable in his peaceful defeat than he does on a regular day, and Stark isn’t exactly known for being the most accepting of unexpected physical contact. But Stark is already moving before he gets a chance, shifting in a movement that would have jarred Banner awake had he been any less in need of sleep. Clint’s mouth opens, ready to snap at the genius, or something, because yeah, he gets it, people in your space, not awesome, but _come on it’s Banner-_

Snaps shut as he watches Stark pull the blanket that had fallen to the floor up and over the other man, before moving a bit more to put them both in what is obviously a more comfortable position, not trying to move the doctor away at all.

Clint blinks even as his own body moves back.

Huh.

 

* * *

 

 

Natasha is three steps closer to a rapidly paling Stark than the encroaching, frowning senator is when suddenly Banner is right at the billionaire’s side.

The gala is noisy, ill-controlled (no doubt both Pepper Potts and Fury will have words with coordinator), exactly the sort of atmosphere Banner is wont to avoid, and yet he’s throwing an arm across Stark’s shoulders, dragging him close enough that any attempt to walk between the two of them would be impossible. There’s nothing obviously closed off in Banner’s stance – it’s almost entirely welcoming, an invitation to approach – but his smile is sharp, daring. 

Dangerous.

She pauses in her approach, and isn’t surprised in the slightest when the senator, eyes wide at the unplanned inclusion of the man who _contains the Hulk in his body_ , veers off sharply in the other direction, trying to lose himself in the crowd.

She watches as Stark leans into Banner’s hold, watches the razor smile die into a soft grin, watches the possessive hold become a stabilizing support, watches Banner’s lips form the words _you need some air_ , watches Stark nod gratefully, watches them fade off with Banner leading, and arches an eyebrow.

How had she missed that?

 

* * *

 

 

Walking away from chasing nightmares, Steve heads for the entertainment room at three in the morning, and stumbles across Tony and Bruce coming up from the lab.

Immediately, it’s on his tongue to chastise the two of them – they’ve had the discussion of the importance of sleep and overall health more times than he’s ever cared to count – when he hears Tony’s faint, crooning words.

“Come on, just a few dozen more steps. It’s not that much, you’ve done more, remember all those countries? All those hikes you made? You’ve got this. We’ll get to the elevator, and then you can have a whole twenty-one seconds of not moving until it’s time to get to bed. Or the yoga mat. Whichever one you want.”

Even in the shadows Steve can see Bruce’s hand dart out to wrap around Tony’s wrist. “Tony-.” It sounds like a warning as much as a plea, and Steve’s already stepping forward in concern when Tony’s free hand reaches up and  - cards soothingly through Bruce’s hair in one slow sweep.

“It was just a nightmare,” is said lowly. “I don’t doubt that it was horrific and devastating as fuck, but it was just a nightmare. You didn’t hurt anything. You didn’t hurt me. I’m sorry I didn’t stop when you said you were done, that you fell asleep waiting for me-.”

“Not your fault-.”

“-but I’ve gotcha now buddy, okay? Follow me, come on, I’ll even do that yoga shit with you.”

“…Really?”

“Well. I’ll, you know, _watch_.”

And Steve doesn’t do anything, doesn’t say a word – he’s not sure if they notice him, as much as they’ve noticed each other – as they head in the same direction he’s come from. His smile feels warm, though.

 

* * *

 

It’s the daily team breakfast, and Tony slides a heaping plate of eggs and bacon under Bruce’s nose before taking a seat beside him at the table.

Bruce immediately scoops up half of his eggs and deposits them directly onto Tony’s own, incredibly smaller helping with a pointed look that quite plainly says, _Eat._

The genius grumbles. The other doesn’t even blink.

It makes Thor grin.

The sight of the two of them stirs feelings of both delight and sadness in his chest. On Asgard, in the grand halls of the palace, the affections of love had been abundant, a beautiful emotion that had been a blessing and honor to be invited to behold – his late mother had once compared the allowance to the grace of walking under an unburning, pleasantly warm sunlight, and he has associated the feeling in that way ever since.

Earth is more reserved in their display of love than Asgard – his lady Jane enjoys his affections, most certainly, but is reluctant and embarrassed of too much of even his most innocent of touches. Weddings are nearly always private affairs, or so open that they’re more of a show than a celebration.

The love between women and women, or men and men, he’s noticed, are either hidden, or tense with more fear than joy. _It’s not natural for two people of the same sex to love each other_ , he’s been told by some. _It’s frowned upon, dangerous_ , others have said. _Friends and family have turned their backs on those who have “come out” to being involved in such a relationship._

He watches Tony throw a piece of his own bacon onto Bruce’s plate, sticking out his tongue at the light elbow jab he receives in return, and feels pained that they feel the need to hide their relationship from himself and the others because of this stigma. That they feel they will be rejected by them for the love they hold for each other, simply because the mortals of Earth have not yet let go of enough of their hate to relish in the blessing of its existence.

“You need to eat more,” Tony hisses.

“Being hypocritical is beneath genius level,” Bruce snarks back.

“Friends!” Thor finds himself booming, and the entire table freezes, five sets of eyes landing on him. He smiles at them all.

These two should not be afraid.

“I apologize for interrupting our meal,” he continues sincerely, “but it is customary on Asgard to give such blessings over a feast in which all are in attendance. And though this is no feast, it is the only time in which we all gather together to eat. As such, it will do.”

“Blessings?” Natasha poses from the head of the table, head cocked slightly in question.

“If this is anything extremely alien, no offense, but I’m out,” Clint says quickly. Both Tony and Bruce are quick to mutter their agreement. Steven just looks bemused.

“This is nothing more than words, I assure you.” Thor chuckles, standing. The glass holding his orange juice is plastic (an ongoing joke started by lady Darcy and Tony that amuses instead of offends him), but he lifts it anyway. Again, it will do. “I merely wish to bestow a blessing on friends Banner and Stark, that the love between them continue to grow and lighten the world with its existence. That it should bring them happiness and comfort throughout all of their days, that it be the base on which they use to stand beside each other, and the rope of which holds them in reminder of what they have, when times and situations bring darkness. That all who receive the gift of witnessing the two of them together be inspired and soothed in the knowledge that a love as great and pure as the one they share does indeed exist in this world.”

He lifts his cup, grinning again when Natasha (shaking her head with a smile), Clint (grinning just as widely as himself), and Steve (looking truly blissful) raise their own in return.

“I’ll drink to that,” Steven adds softly, tossing a warm look to the two they bless. A look that instantly fades into confusion.

Thor follows his gaze to the sight of shocked faces.

Bruce’s eyes are wide. “Um…”

So are Tony’s, his head shaking. “Whoa, we’re not. We’re not together-”

“Like that,” Bruce finishes.

“There is no need to hide it,” Thor says gently, frowning slightly. “Not here. Not with us.” Steven is nodding.

“No, seriously.” Tony tosses a slightly panicked glance toward Bruce that isn’t shared. “We’re _not together_.”

They all fall silent, stunned.

“…the **_fuck_** do you mean you’re not together?” Clint finally demands.

 

* * *

 

 

“So, I brought you lunch, only I’m not sure if I should actually give it to you, because apparently it’s some sort of mating ritual.”

“If you don’t give me that food, I will Hulk out and take it from you. After I smash you. I will take it from you after I smash you, and then make you get me more, because I’ll be hungry from the change. Save yourself the trouble and give it to me now.”

“I love that you make jokes about the Hulk, seriously.” Tony doesn’t really bother to fight the smile that eats at his face as he drops the sandwich lightly onto Bruce’s desk, laughs slightly as his friend immediately snatches it up and takes a large bite. “Like I said, you need to eat more,” he teases, just beams under the look he gets.

“And like _I_ said, being a hypocrite is beneath you,” Bruce returns, swallowing heavily. “Did you bring me something to drink too, by any chance?”

“Tea in a bottle, imagine that. I mixed it and everything, it’s disgusting, you’re welcome.” He’s already unscrewing the cap, handing the open bottle straight off and rolling his eyes as the man drinks it unnecessarily loud. “Heathen.”

Bruce smirks. “Well, we’re apparently dating, so what’s that say about you?”

The words stumble from Tony’s mouth before he can stop them. It’s not his fault, he’s tired, and Bruce looks surprisingly pliant and happy at his desk, taking another bite of the sandwich he’d actually made (Steve’s astounded look had been completely uncalled for) – “Are we, do you think? Dating, I mean?”

Bruce’s chewing pauses. If it were anyone else, Tony would be freaking out right now, backpedaling, trying to play off the words or erase them. But he’s not felt that anxious sense of _oh shit I fucked this up_ with Bruce in months, not since their first weeks where they’d danced around each other, unsure, trying to be comfortable, freaked out over how easy everything had been between them.

“I’d say that you have to be-.” Bruce swallows again, takes another swig of the tea ( _dis.gust.ing_ ) to wash it down before going on. “ _Aware_ that you’re dating someone to be _dating_ _someone_ , but …” He looks to Tony again. “I’ve been thinking about it, as I’m sure you have.”

“Considered the theory, explored the variables, examined the provided evidence to see if it is, in fact, proof,” Tony elaborates, nodding.

“Same conclusion?” The question is posed delicately, just a small ounce of fear, and his hand is instantly on Bruce’s wrist, settling over and rubbing the pulse point in the gentle touches he’s been given time and time again.

“Dating,” he agrees.

Bruce’s eyebrows raise. “Bad idea.”

Tony finds himself shrugging. “I’ve made worse.” And the smirk is back on his friend’s face.

“Me too.”

“Right.” Tony nods, because of course it’s right. It just … he doesn’t actually know what right should feel like, but nothing with Bruce has ever really felt wrong. And this doesn’t either. “So, um … fuck, let’s just dive right in. You gonna smash me if I kiss you?”

“We’ll have to talk about things, Tony,” Bruce warns, but he’s still smiling, so he’s apparently alright with that idea.

“Eventually,” Tony negotiates, and before it can be pushed, darts down.

Bruce kisses back, all soft and careful and not the hungry-rushed Tony’s used to with kisses, and he’s right.

It doesn’t feel wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted on tumblr.


End file.
